Renegade
by white-angelxhunter
Summary: Your life is in danger." He told her. "From what?" She retorted. "The only threat I see is having to see you and damage my eyeballs." DM/HG in which Draco and Ron are Aurors and partners, and Hermione is a particularly difficult assignment.
1. Of Partners and Lovers

Renegade

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

I.

* * *

He was motionless in the darkness of the night, ever careful not to make even a single sound. The moon glimmered brightly over his shoulder, but he was unaware of it. He had eyes only for his prey, who was moving quickly towards his own target.

His hand tightened on his wand. His instinct told him that it was almost time.

A high-pitched scream resounded into the air, and he sprang into action.

"Stupefy!" He roared, watching the body fall to the floor with a thud. He had been waiting weeks for this moment. Finally, the man who had killed seven innocent people would be sent to Azkaban to meet the cruel fate of those who had chosen to break the law.

"Time to leave, Ferret." He heard his partner say. He didn't even bother acknowledging him. That was the way they worked. That was the way they had been for years—even before they graduated from Hogwarts.

He disapparated, leaving the lanky red-head to finish his dirty work, like always.

* * *

This year, the invitation was green with the words embossed in silver, the envelope smelling faintly of fresh roses. Hermione was on the verge of picking up her wand and setting the cursed object on fire when Ron conveniently plucked it out of her hands.

"What's your excuse this time, Hermione?" He asked, his eyebrows wagging. Oh, how he loved to provoke her when she was in a foul mood.

"Tell them that I was gardening, and that I was feeding the Venus Fly Trap…" She paused. "…and that it bit my fingers off and I had to stay home and find them." She finished.

"Even Crookshanks wouldn't believe that." Ron scoffed as he placed the invitation back on the kitchen counter. "Why don't you just _go_, Hermione? You might even end up enjoying it."

"Never." She hissed venomously. With a flick of her wand, the envelope burst into flames.

Ron rolled his eyes. Every year, it was always the same.

* * *

_  
Focus, Hermione. Focus._

It had only been a minute since Ron had started kissing her, and her mind had already started to wander to her work, even to what she was going to make for breakfast tomorrow. She really couldn't help it. As much as she loved Ron, he just couldn't make her excited in bed.

They had talked about it several times. Ron always told her that he suspected that their relationship was platonic. Deep down inside, she knew he was right. Out loud, she often convinced him otherwise. She would tell him that she loved him and that she would rather die than live without him. It wasn't a complete hoax—it was true that she loved Ron. It was just that she wasn't _in_ _love_ with him.

Ron had always known that they were two people who cared about each other, but weren't the type of couple who could speak of forever. Hence, when Hermione proposed that they live in together rather than get married, he agreed.

Of course, there were nights like these when Ron tried to see if Hermione changed the way she felt about him. She didn't mind, she owed him a lot and was willing to subject herself to his whims. But it was futile. Hermione did not change. She doubted she ever will.

"Not tonight, then?" Ron asked, smiling at her.

"Not tonight." Hermione replied, squeezing his hand. She watched as Ron made himself comfortable on his side of the bed. She felt bad for him. She knew he was only staying with her because of their friendship, and that as his friend she should probably let him go and move on. In the past, she was selfish. She knew that if he found someone else, he would leave. Back then, she couldn't bear the thought of being alone. But not tonight.

Ron reached out to hold her hand, as if sensing that she was thinking of something deep. "Don't worry, Hermione." He told her. "You know that I don't mind."

"I know it's selfish of me." She said. She knew that she wanted this to end. She had kept him in chains long enough. "It's been almost four years, Ron. I want you to be happy."

He was looking at her with patience in his eyes, and she knew that he really wanted to listen to what she had to say. She really did care about him. She wanted to do this.

"I'm going to move out." She told him. She could see the shock in his face. "Ron, you've done so much for me. I want you to finally have your life back. I've taken so much out of it already."

"Hermione, I'll still be here for you, no matter what." He told her. She completely believed him.

"Good night, Ron." She said, with a smile.

He kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Good night, Hermione." He replied.

That night, Hermione slept with a feeling of liberation, as if a heavy weight was lifted off her chest.

She had given Ron his freedom back. She was finally ready to move on.

"There's just one thing, though…" Hermione thought.

* * *

The Malfoy mansion was especially impeccable that night. The grounds were decorated with fountains that spewed rainbow lights instead of water, and the trees glowed with enchanted fireflies of various colors. Inside, the ceilings glittered with chandeliers and the halls were adorned with fresh flowers, vines and gemstones.

Hermione's hand on Ron's arm tightened.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" He asked her. He knew how much she loathed Draco Malfoy. Sure, he had terrorized them while they were still at Hogwarts, but that was four years ago. Even he had fallen into a professional relationship with him. He wondered what Draco must've done to deserve her insatiable anger.

It was odd that Hermione avoided the Malfoys in the four years that they were together, and then suddenly she begs him to take her to the Malfoys' ball just hours after she had burned the invitation. If that was not the handiwork of female hormones, he didn't know what was.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley." The butler announced, and the walls rang with his voice.

"Oh, but we're not—" Ron started. Hermione poked him in the ribs.

"It's okay, Ron." She said. "It doesn't matter whether they get it right or not."

The truth was, she was happy that the butler got it wrong. At least _he_ would think that she had moved on.

"Okay." Ron shrugged. "Let's go mingle."

Hermione's eyes scanned the crowd quickly, but then she stopped herself. She didn't want _him_ to think that she was actually looking for _him_. Let _him_ look for _her_.

"Let's dance." She told Ron, and she pulled him towards the couples in the middle of the room.

The song was slow and sweet, so Ron wrapped his arms around her waist, and her hands found their way around his neck. Physical contact was not new nor awkward to them, as they were best friends and former lovers. Their foreheads touched.

"Who knew that it wouldn't work out between us." He whispered to her. "People always said that we were perfect together."

"I don't know, Ron." She whispered back. "Are you sad?"

"Nah." He smiled at her. "You make me really happy, even if we're only meant to be just friends."

"Kiss me one last time?" She asked him, with a smile. And he did.

Her lips had barely touched Ron's when she heard the sound of shattering glass and a collective gasp from the crowd. Ron had heard it too. He had looked up abruptly and had shifted to Auror mode, the kiss completely forgotten. Hermione turned to look at what the commotion was about.

It was _him_.

"Sorry. I was holding the glass too tight." He said to the crowd, and even though his hand was a bloodied mess, with glass shards littering the floor, no one dared to move and help him.

Not with his eyes ablaze with anger, like they were that night.

"Reparo." She heard Pansy say. "Honestly, Draco, you are never in control of yourself. Now come with me and we'll have the house elf fix it…"

And then Pansy herded Draco away and they were gone.

"Pansy looks like she's really taking care of Malfoy, huh?" Ron said, interrupting her thoughts. "He's lucky he got a wife who actually cares for him. I heard that they're always together."

Hermione could hear what Ron was saying, but her heart refused to process the words. She didn't want to believe that Draco was married, was actually in love with his wife. She didn't want to remember that he had left _her_ to be with someone else.

"I have to go to the ladies' room." She told Ron apologetically.

"That's okay. I'll go talk to my boss." He said, spotting the Chief Auror a few feet away.

Hermione didn't even know where the bathroom was, but she did know that she needed to get a breath of fresh air.

* * *

It turned out that she wasn't the only one with the idea of staying in the garden for a while, since _he_ was out there as well.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that this spot was taken." She said coolly, trying to avoid his eyes.

"Why? Looking for a snog-spot with Weasel? There are better parts in the house where you can more vividly imagine that he was actually a man."

"I would imagine so. I'm impressed that there are actually rooms in your house which can transform cows into Pansy."

He was taller than she remembered, and his shoulders were broader. She shamelessly drank in the sight of him, and he did the same. It had been too long. Those four years of speculating what had happened and what could've happened had crawled on too damn slowly.

"Why are you even here?" There was ice in his voice. "What happened to your lame excuses? I believe the last one was that your pet dragon accidentally clawed through your stomach and dislocated your gall bladder."

"It was my pet _cat_, and he clawed through my _feet_ and dislocated my _ankles_." She retorted back, just as icily. Draco was not amused.

"I haven't forgotten, Hermione." He told her. "And I know you haven't either. That's why you're here."

She didn't reply.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening." He told her, as he took his leave.

For a moment, Hermione considered following him. But then she realized how futile it was, so she went to find Ron instead.

All she wanted was to go home and try to forget again.

* * *

How is it is so far? Do tell. *Telepathically moves your mouse to the review button* :)


	2. A Threat, and Memories

Renegade

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

II.

* * *

From the moment that Hermione woke up, something felt wrong.

It wasn't that Ron had already gone, which wasn't unusual. He woke up unbelievably early and came home unbelievably late sometimes. Hermione was used to it.

No, it wasn't Ron's absence. It felt as if something was out of place. Like there was something about the house today that wasn't there before.

Shrugging off the ominous feeling that she felt, she proceeded to take her clothes off and slip into her robe. Maybe it was nothing a hot shower couldn't fix.

She stepped into the bathroom and discarded her robe on the floor. After adjusting the handles in the shower to her preferred temperature, she sighed contentedly, her eyes closed, as the water hit her. As she shampooed her hair and soaped herself down, her mind wandered off to what she wanted to do that day. She should probably get ahead on her research, her editor would want to review her article for the Wizards journal soon…

From the corner of her eye she saw something dark, like a shadow, near the sink. That was odd, since the bathroom was all white. Frowning, she wiped some of the mist off the glass door of the shower and saw, to her absolute shock and horror, that Draco Malfoy was smirking at her from the open doorway.

Hermione turned the knobs counterclockwise and the water shut off. Angrily, she slid the glass door slightly open and grabbed her robe. After putting it on and tying it securely, she marched right up to the unwelcome intruder and pushed him as hard as she could on his chest.

"What are you doing here, you perverted freak?" She fumed, her eyes burning with rage. Any other man would have cowered in fear.

Not _him_.

"Relax, Granger. Like there's anything in there that I haven't seen before." His eyes traveled down from her face to the front of her robe. Hermione reached out to strangle him, but he caught her wrists easily.

"Get out of my house, Malfoy." She hissed, struggling against his hold.

"I'm under orders to stay with you. You can call me 'bodyguard'" He said, with a smirk. Hermione stared. Finally, his words sunk in. She did _not_ like what was happening.

"Why would I need a bodyguard? And why should it be someone who won't even be able to protect himself from the size of his own ego?" She crossed her arms on her chest in a show of irritation as soon as Draco let her wrists go.

"You're in danger." He said, simply.

"From what?" She retorted. "The only danger that I see is having to see you and damage my eyeballs."

"I assure you that you're not the only one who gets blinded by my good looks, but give it some time. You'll get used to it again." He smirked at her. "So what's for breakfast?"

"Something from your ass that I want to shove into your mouth." Hermione replied, in a rather unlady-like manner.

"Four years, and you never grew up?" He drawled. "I never thought Weasley was contagious, but now I have proof."

"At least he's not a cow!" Hermione screamed, and she angrily stormed out of the room. For a moment, Draco was stunned. And then, even though he knew just how much her life was in danger, and even though he saw the hurt in her eyes at having to see him again, he felt a small smile form on his lips.

He hadn't felt like this in years.

It was obvious that Hermione was in the kitchen, as Draco could hear her banging pots and pans around in anger. He sighed. He never planned on angering her. The words just spilled out all by themselves. It was like reflex.

He wanted to apologize, but he knew that he would never do it. So he just sat on the stool next to the kitchen counter and watched her ignore him, which was what they did the whole day.

* * *

That night, Hermione dreamed of her memories.

* * *

She had already finished dressing into her robes, her Head Girl badge already pinned to her chest, when he entered the compartment.

It was clear that they hadn't wanted to talk to each other, even if they had to work together to keep the other Hogwarts students at bay during the long train ride. She ached to be with Ron and Harry, but she had a job to do.

Sighing, she stood up and left the compartment, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

* * *

It was a new practice at Hogwarts that the Head Boy and Head Girl stayed in separate quarters which looked like a small version of the House dormitories. There were two bedrooms, one for the Head Girl and the other for the Head Boy, as well as a small common room with two desks, a couch, and a fireplace.

At the beginning of the year, Hermione dreaded going back to her shared room with Draco everytime her classes ended. But he never spoke to her, nor did he even bother to acknowledge her presence at all, so after a while, she got used to sharing a space with him. By November, she had his whole routine memorized.

Although he didn't look like it, Draco was incredibly disciplined. He followed the same schedule everyday, be it raining, snowing, or sunny outside. He woke up at exactly 5:00 AM, went out for a jog, came back an hour later, grabbed his clothes, went off to take a bath, and then came back to the common room to get his school things. Then, he would go down to breakfast promptly at 7, and Hermione would not see him until 9:00 at night, which was the start of their rounds.

They would patrol the grounds for an hour, and then they would both finish up their schoolwork in their own corners, never talking to each other, never looking at each other. That is, until Draco broke his routine.

He was waiting for her in the common room on that fateful day, his eyes bloodshot. As if he had not slept for days.

"I need a favor." His voice was hoarse. "I know you hate me, but you're the only person who can do this. I'm willing to repay you in any way you want me to."

She looked at his disheveled state and knew that it would take only a real, life-threatening and important emergency for Draco Malfoy to be asking for _her_ help. Despite his evil nature, he was still a person, deep down inside. Her compassion stirred within her.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked.

"I'm leaving Hogwarts for a few days." He said. "Cover for me."

And then he was gone.

Draco was only gone for one school day, and it was easy for Hermione to lie and say that he was in bed, feeling ill, and that he refused to see the school nurse out of pride.

"It will take more than the flu to ask Madam Pomfrey to heal me." She would quote to a teacher, or "Malfoys handle sicknesses like real men."

It was a good thing that Draco's arrogance was well-known around the school, and no one questioned her story.

At exactly 9:00 on that Monday night, Draco had reappeared and was ready to do their rounds. All signs that he had been devastated and asking for her help had vanished.

"I haven't forgotten about our deal." He told her, when they had finished another hour of roaming around the school in silence.

"You don't have to repay me." Hermione replied, and she meant it. It was a simple favor, one that did not even merit reciprocation, and she could not think of anything that she needed from him, anyway.

But Draco was full of pride. As a Slytherin, he firmly believed in the saying, _"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth"_, even in giving and returning favors. It bothered him completely that Hermione did not need--or even want--any form of compensation from him.

"I'm going to pay you back even if I have to take 500 galleons and stuff them one by one down your throat." He said, icily.

"Well, I'll be sure to give them all back to you when I excrete them all out." She shot back, just as icily. "I have no need for your money, and I never will."

And with that, she turned her back to him and walked up to her room.

* * *

Draco's insistence in paying her back and Hermione's stubbornness at refusing to let him had them arguing for a long time.

The day after he returned, Draco started showering her with gifts of all kinds. It was amusing to see the items that he thought she might like, but of course, he didn't know her enough to send something that she might actually find interesting. He gave her make-up, clothes, even romance novels and other things that girls were stereotyped to like. She delighted in returning these gifts to the stores and depositing the money back into Draco Malfoy's bank account using her connection with Bill Weasley.

At first, Draco thought that she was actually keeping her gifts and had fallen back contentedly into their no-speak/no-look state for a week or so. And then his monthly bank statement came in, and he realized that for every item that he bought from a store for her, there was a deposit in his bank account for the same value. Needless to say, he was outraged.

"Spare me the trouble and tell me what you want from me." He told her one night, while she was studying for an exam. She didn't even look up from her book.

"I don't want anything from you, Malfoy. So just forget about it and move on with your life."

"I never forget anything in my life, Granger." He said. "And my owing you will haunt me, until the day I die."

"It's not a big deal, okay?" She looked up at him now. "You were gone, I lied to some teachers. Big fat deal, as if I'd never done that before for any of my friends."

"But that's the problem." He said. "I am not one of your friends, and it was a big deal to me."

He left her alone after that, but she knew that he'd be back.

Sighing, she once again focused on memorizing the facts in her books, and all thoughts of Draco and his dumb efforts to repay her vanished in an instant.

* * *

As the Christmas break loomed near, the Hogwarts students started to prepare to go home for the holidays. Hermione's parents had planned on going on a romantic Caribbean cruise, so she was going to stay over at the Weasleys with Harry and Ron for the holidays. She was busy packing up her things when she noticed that Draco was just sitting by his table, his papers and books strewn all over the desk.

"Aren't you going to pack your trunk?" Hermione asked. They were on speaking terms now, even though they still only barely talked, which was probably the only good thing that had come out of Draco's obsession to pay her back.

"No." He said, and Hermione could hear the sadness in his voice. She felt sorry for him. She had noticed that he was quieter lately, and that he didn't wake up to jog anymore, like he used to. She didn't know what had happened in the three days that he was gone, but she had noticed the change in him. He had started to stay away from people, and was usually in the common room as soon as his classes ended, drinking stuff that looked and smelled alcoholic. She knew he was depressed. She had wanted to comfort him for the longest time, but she didn't know how to. Like he said, he wasn't one of her friends.

But she also knew that he was hurting even if he didn't show it, and that he was alone in his misery, and that she wanted to do something about it, regardless of whether they were friends or not.

She didn't know if it would make him feel better, but she really couldn't bear the sight of a human being looking as desolate as Draco Malfoy looked right now, even if he _did_ belong to the dark side.

"Well, maybe you could help me unpack." Hermione said, trying to sound cheerful.

He didn't move an inch, and Hermione didn't know what the hell she was doing, but she wrote a letter to Ron and Harry telling them that she would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays.

* * *

Notes:

Thank you for the reviews. :) They inspire me to write faster, and better. Hehe. I appreciate your true and honest comments about my story, because I really do want to improve as a writer :)

Semi-spoilers below:

**Coming up in the next chapter: **

More memories of Draco and Hermione at Hogwarts, and how their relationship was formed.

**In later chapters:**

Why Draco left Hermione for Pansy

What Draco did during the three days he was gone

and

Who has evil intentions for Hermione

Explained!

If something else intrigues you, tell me, and I'll be sure to include it in a chapter. See you soon ;)


	3. Mistletoes

Renegade

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

III.

* * *

Draco was moping in the common room for three straight days, to Hermione's great annoyance. Ever the optimist, she wanted to slap Draco silly and bring some sense into him. Whatever he was feeling, it couldn't be that bad.

But a tiny voice at the back of her head was telling her otherwise. This _was_ Draco Malfoy that she was talking about. _Nothing_ ruffled his composure. There must be a good reason that, day after day, she saw him with bloodshot eyes which indicated that he was either not sleeping or that he was spending all his nights crying.

The image of Draco sobbing his eyeballs out terribly disturbed her, but it was also good to know that despite the uncaring exterior and the foul attitude, he was actually a human being.

That was enough for her to want to help him.

So there she was outside his room, wondering if she should knock and how she was going to talk to him, when he opened the door.

His eyes narrowed at her, and at the parcel in her hands.

"And to what do I owe your unsightly presence?" He asked. His voice was hoarse again, his eyes red and swollen. Like he had been…

Hermione resisted the urge to finish her thoughts with 'crying.' She still wasn't sure about that. Did Malfoys even have tear ducts?

'Human being.' She reminded herself sternly, and she forced herself to smile.

"I went ahead and got myself…_this_." She told him, as she showed him the contents of the parcel. Inside was a thick, hard-bound book, its pages already yellow-brown with age. It wasn't in great shape, as it was already tattered, and there were loose pages that could barely be contained with the rest.

"Do I look like I care?" Draco asked her, sounding annoyed. "Because if I don't, that's exactly what I feel right now."

"I bought this book with your money." Hermione said. Her patience was wearing thin.

'Human being.' She told herself again. But something was making her refuse to listen to herself. Probably Draco Malfoy's incredible arrogance.

"You had to use _my_ money for _that_?" He looked disbelievingly at the book in her hands.

"Yeah. I bought it on an auction. It actually costs quite a lot. Close to my allowance for a whole year." She said. "I've wanted this book for quite a long time. So thank you."

She paused. "We're even now."

She knew he would remember. He once told her that he would never forget.

"Thanks." He said, automatically. He looked as shocked as she was by what he said.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Draco recovered quickly.

"That's Slytherin slang for 'You're pathetic.'" He told her, with a sneer. He was about to slam the door in her face when Hermione stepped into his room.

"No." She hissed. "_You're_ pathetic. Look at yourself!"

Her eyes blazed at him.

"You've been doing nothing but mope for _weeks_, and I know you won't want to admit it but I think that you've been bawling your eyes out every single night! Now I go here as someone who genuinely cares and what do you do? You push me away like I'm not good enough! No wonder you're all alone and have no real friends, you sicken even _me_ with your disgusting attitude. I try not to judge people but I really can't stand you and I just have to say—_you're an asshole, Malfoy_."

And with that, she left, leaving Draco alone and wondering why her words actually stung him.

* * *

That night, it was _him_ that was waiting outside Hermione's room, a parcel in his hands. He raised his hand to knock on her door, and missed it by a few inches.

He frowned. He'd only had a few shots. The tequila that the House elf brought was probably a bit too strong than what he'd been having. Or did he really just have a few shots?

He adjusted his hand and knocked on her door. He heard her slamming a book shut and finally, she appeared in the doorway.

She was wearing pajamas, and Draco had to force his laughter down. She even had pink bunny slippers on, for heaven's sake. And to think that he had actually been a little scared of her.

"What do you want?" She grumbled.

"It's Christmas eve." He said, simply. He showed her the contents of the package, as if they explained everything.

Her eyes narrowed at the bottles in his hands, and she looked up at Draco's expectant face. This was probably the way that devils said _'Sorry' _in their sick, demented alternate universe. She sighed.

"Okay." She conceded. "But I'm not going to drink."

He smirked.

* * *

30 minutes and two bottles of tequila later, Draco and Hermione were stoned.

They both knew that they shouldn't be drinking that fast, but Draco had started a Slytherin v.s. Gryffindor war and Hermione was not going to back out of _that_.

It had started with an innocent, 'Why don't you drink?' on Draco's part. Hermione had answered with an 'I'm a responsible person who takes care of my body' speech, to which Draco had snorted and said,

"Gryffindors are just sissies."

Indignant, Hermione took a tiny sip from her shot glass. She didn't like the taste. She never had.

"What's _that_, Granger? That's how much an ant would drink." He scoffed. He downed the contents of his own shot glass and poured himself another.

"Oh, that's right, you're a Gryffindor. 'I'm brave and strong enough to slay monsters in the Chamber of Secrets and face the Dark Lord, but I'm afraid of a teeny tiny shot glass of tequila.' _Pathetic_."

"Fine!" Hermione said, finally giving in to his taunts. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat.

"I bet you can't drink as much as I've had." Draco said, pouring her another shot.

"You're on, Slytherin." She replied.

* * *

Pretty soon, they were insulting professors, saying completely random things at each other, and playing a game of 20 questions, all in a drunken state that Hermione was sure her normal, sober self wouldn't approve of.

"So I was telling...Harry." Hermione hiccuped. "That maybe I would just stay with the Weasleys next Christmas."

"Why are you even here?" Draco slurred. "Why didn't you go back home for the holidays?" It was Draco's 16th question. Or maybe not. They were both too drunk to count.

"I felt sorry for you." Hermione said.

"Really?" He asked. It took a great deal of effort for him to lift his head, but he was able to do it.

"My turn to ask a question." She said quickly. "What did you do during those three days?"

All the blood seemed to have left Draco's face.

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet." He said. His brow furrowed, but he didn't let it lose his composure.

"I'm sorry." Hermione said, apologetically, although she didn't feel too apologetic. Not in her state. "That was rude of me. Let me ask another question. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Why?" He smirked, as if he didn't hear the question about what he had done during the three days he was gone. "Are you interested in me?"

"No! That was the first question I could think of." Hermione replied, with a frown.

"I don't have a girlfriend." Draco sighed, groggily. "I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic." Hermione slurred.

"Do _you_ have a boyfriend?" He asked her, more to throw the question back at her than out of curiosity.

Hermione thought about the way Ron was acting towards her lately, and his whole "Maybe we should date other people" speech.

"I thought I did. But I'm not really sure."

Draco shrugged.

"Why do you care so much about me?" He asked. It was a question that she knew he would never ask if there weren't more than 12 shots of tequila in his belly, and it caught her by surprise.

"Because you're a person." She said simply.

And then, maybe because she was drunk, or maybe because she felt sorry for him, Hermione asked:

"Do you want to be friends?"

Draco didn't answer her for a while, and she thought that he had fallen asleep. She started to stand up so that she could go back to her room, but she found that her limbs were incapable of following her brain at the moment.

"Okay." She heard him say, a moment later. "Let's be friends."

They both fell asleep in their respective places on the floor after that.

* * *

The next day, Hermione woke up with a huge headache and muscle pains on her back and other parts of her body. Groaning, she opened her eyes to see Draco trying to stick something into her mouth.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, Malfoy?" She yelled, swatting his hand away. She moaned in pain as her head felt as if it was being pounded by hammers.

"Geez, Granger, I was just trying to cure your hangover. But if you want to feel shitty all day, be my guest."

Her head throbbed, and she was not in the mood for arguing.

"Okay, fine, give it to me." She said.

Immediately after the medicine dissolved on her tongue, Hermione felt better. She stood up and stretched. She felt normal again.

"Thanks." She told him.

Draco rolled his eyes, as if to say 'I told you so.'

"I'm going out to jog." He said.

Hermione was surprised. Sure, it was probably already 10 o clock, but at least Draco was making an effort to go back to his routine.

"Sure." She replied.

"Don't touch my tequila without me." He added, with a smirk.

Hermione threw her shoe at him, but he dodged it, and then he was gone.

* * *

That night, they went down to the Great Hall to attend the feast together, although they didn't talk much along the way. They were both surprised to find out that aside from Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, they were the only ones who hadn't gone home for the holidays. Even most of the teachers were vacationing somewhere.

The two of them ate in silence, as the two professors were discussing some matters that did not involve nor include them. Finally, Professor Dumbledore stood up and addressed them.

"Well, Minerva and I have some matters to attend to. But that doesn't mean the two of you shouldn't enjoy the rest of the evening!"

He clapped his hands, and the lights of the Great Hall dimmed. Fake snowflakes started to fall from the enchanted ceiling, and the two teachers took their leave.

The doors of the Great Hall shut with a loud thud, and romantic music started playing from God-knows-where.

"I think they've totally misunderstood about us." Hermione said.

"Whatever." Draco replied. "Let's go."

They made their way to the entrance, and Draco pushed the door. He frowned.

"Did you bring your wand?"

"No, did you?"

"No. And that's bad."

"Why?"

"Because that old fag locked us both in here."

Shocked, Hermione pushed at the door with all her might. It didn't budge an inch.

Suddenly, the fake snow disappeared, and mistletoes started popping out of the walls and ceilings.

"What in the _world_…?" Draco muttered, looking very irritated.

Hermione looked from the door to the mistletoes, then from the mistletoes to Draco.

"Oh. My. God." She said, and he could see the horror on her face.

"What is it, oh smart one?" He drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's the mistletoe spell. Fred and George used to do this to me and Ron all the time."

"I've never heard of that spell. What does it do?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. This was not happening. Maybe if she pinched herself hard enough, it would all disappear and she would discover that she was just having a nightmare.

When she opened her eyes and saw Draco looking at her, she suppressed a sob.

"You get locked in a room, until you can make the mistletoe, or in our case, mistletoes, disappear." Hermione said.

She looked around the room. There were hundreds, no, thousands of mistletoes in it. Hermione wanted to cry. She wanted to get out so bad to send the Christmas letters she had prepared to her friends and family, but that meant...

"And how do you make them disappear?" Draco asked. He was getting more and more annoyed with every minute of being stuck with her in the Great Hall. Hermione couldn't tell him. She didn't know how to.

And then it dawned on him.

"I am _not_ kissing a Mudblood." He hissed.

"You don't have a choice. I'm the only one here." Hermione hissed back.

"Never!" He roared, backing into a corner in a very un-Draco Malfoy-like manner.

"I am going to get out of this room, even if I have to kill you with my bare hands and kiss your cold, lifeless body." She said, in a deadly voice.

* * *

It took them approximately three hours to make all the mistletoes disappear.

* * *

Lol. I leave the three-hour kissing marathon to your imagination, for the moment. Details in the next chapter. (*evil grin*)

Thanks for the reviews :) They make me smile. I'm glad that you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. See how fast I updated? It's coz I'm excited for you to let me know what you think, so R&R! ^_^

Sorry, I'm having too much fun writing the flashbacks, so I'm extending it to another 2-3 chapters. (Promise, I'll try not to extend anymore! It's just that I write so long). I'll get along with the plot soon, and more explanations in the later chapters but for now, I haven't said all that I want to say about Draco and Hermione's relationship yet. So please bear with me! :D I promise I'll try to make it good ^_^

See you soon! Enjoy~


	4. His Secret

Renegade

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

IV.

* * *

He never would have imagined that kissing Hermione Granger, of all people, would actually be so...interesting.

The first time that their lips touched, Draco had frozen, and the following thoughts had simultaneously crossed his mind:

1. There is a _Mudblood_ on my lips.

2. What the _hell_ am I doing?

3. After all this is done, I am going to fucking _disown_ myself.

As the kiss deepened, as _she_ insisted that a peck on the cheek or a simple smack on the lips would never make the mistletoes disappear, a new thought crossed his mind.

4. Hermione Granger was actually a pretty good kisser.

It wasn't that he'd never kissed girls, in fact he'd kissed a fair share of them. But they were all too safe, too bland, too boring for him. It seemed that even for kissing, Hermione had done her homework.

He liked the way she explored his mouth and even tried to control him, as if she didn't care what he thought of her. Most girls that Draco had dated were conservative with him. The Pureblood girls had families that raised them to think that a Malfoy (or any wealthy Pureblood) would want a girl that no man had touched before.

In his case, they were wrong.

Draco liked the feeling of being 'chosen' from a pile of other men. He liked the idea that the woman he would choose had been through plenty of guys, but in the end, he would be deemed the best. It was odd, but that was what he liked.

Kissing her felt different. She kissed with a passion. And all this wasn't real—it was just to make the stupid door open. He wondered what it would feel like if she was in love with him, and kissed him with so much more. He hated to admit it, but it piqued his curiosity.

'_Too bad it's all being wasted on a dumb idiot like Weasley_.' He thought to himself. Not that he cared. He was just being curious.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked, panting as she broke the kiss.

"Nothing." Draco lied.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I know that look. That's the look on your face every time you're analyzing something. See, your eyes are all glazed over. Are you _analyzing_ me?"

"No." Draco lied again. "And how would you know that? It's not like you stare at me during class."

"I don't even want to _look_ at you, why would I _stare_?" She retorted.

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm, and she had to look down and pretend to be tying her shoelaces so that Draco wouldn't notice. The fact was, she _had_ stared at him during class, on occasion. She was human, after all, and a girl, and he was just too good-looking sometimes. She blamed it on her hormones, and how boring her teachers were at certain moments.

She hated to admit it, but she could neither confirm nor deny whether she liked how things were going at the moment. True, Draco was a slimy git who was the direct spawn of the devil. But she couldn't deny the fact that she didn't mind making out with him at all, for purely noble reasons of course. She had letters that she had to send.

"When are all these damn mistletoes going to go away?" He muttered irritably. The mistletoes had considerably lessened, but there were still a lot more.

"When we finish what we're doing." Hermione said.

Sighing, Draco leaned in to kiss her once again.

* * *

By the time they were on their 6th kiss, Draco actually stopped thinking about the more unflattering thoughts he had of Hermione because he was really starting to enjoy himself.

With each kiss, they went further and further, his hands finding their way to her waist, to her neck, to the small of her back. Hermione kissed him with her arms wrapped around him, or pressed against his chest. Pretty soon, she was sitting on his lap and was making a few sounds that were turning Draco on.

He sure as hell didn't know why he was liking it so much.

Every time they broke a kiss, he was fascinated at her swollen lips and flushed face. Draco liked the thought that it was _his_ handiwork that did it to her.

She really _was_ unlike any of the other girls he'd dated. She was not afraid to speak her mind, throw harmless and not-so-harmless objects at him, and even dared to offend him, something that nobody ever did to a Malfoy. She was nice to you and didn't expect anything in return. She was independent, witty and, yes, a little pathetic and thick-headed sometimes.

It was all so strange, how he wanted her but refused to like her at the same time.

* * *

_Three hours later…_

Hermione moaned as Draco's lips trailed down to her neck, his fingers already working their way into her blouse.

"Say no to me." He whispered into her ear.

"No." She replied unconvincingly, as she pulled him closer to her. She wanted him to touch her too badly.

"Tell me to stop." He said huskily, his eyes filled with lust.

"Don't." She said, breathlessly, and she pulled him into a kiss.

Draco was mad with need. He couldn't think straight anymore. He had lost most of his control and was more than ready to have his way with Hermione Granger. He didn't know why he was so intoxicated with her. Maybe it had just been too long since he'd had any.

"Malfoy." She whimpered, and the look in her eyes was more than enough to drive him wild.

He pushed her against the door, his fingers sliding up her front. She could feel his need pressing against her thigh.

Suddenly, the entrance of the Great Hall swung open, and Draco and Hermione fell to the floor.

* * *

"I needed that bump on the head." Draco muttered, his arms still around Hermione.

"No one ever told me you were a gentleman." She said, appreciating the fact that he had cushioned her fall.

"I didn't do it on purpose." He said, although it was rather obvious that he did.

She sighed and stood up, offering her hand to him. He didn't take it, and stood up on his own.

"Time to go."

They walked back together in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.

"Were you sorry that you had to go through that?" She asked him.

"Maybe." He told her.

"If you were given a chance, would you do it again?" She pressed.

Draco gave her a look.

"Maybe." He said. Hermione smiled.

"What if I told you that I'd do it with you?" She told him seductively, cornering him against the wall. For a moment she thought she saw his eyes burn for her, but it could just have been the light. He smirked.

"I'm not _that_ desperate." He said, and Hermione smacked him on the chest.

* * *

Following the event in the Great Hall, Draco was considerably more relaxed around her, although they still didn't talk much. It was still awkward. He was a Slytherin, she was a Gryffindor. He was supposed to be her enemy, they were supposed to dislike each other. But neither could forget their three-hour long marathon of kisses.

They had settled into a comfortable routine as they were the only ones around Hogwarts, and there was no one around to judge them. Draco would jog in the morning, and return to the room where Hermione would have breakfast ready for him. They would eat in silence, then go about doing their own thing (he would read the paper or solve puzzles, she would read books) until it was time for lunch. That's when they would sneak off to go to Hogsmeade, eat out, and walk around until it got dark.

They never really talked to each other when they went out. It was more for them not to be alone than for them to be together, so it surprised her when Draco asked her if she wanted to visit his home with him all of a sudden.

"What are we going to do there?" She asked. Something in his voice had told her that it was important to him.

"I wish to show you something." He told her. His eyes were unreadable as he said it.

She agreed.

Normally, students who stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays weren't able to leave, but Draco was rich enough to have his own way. They were at his house in a few hours, and Hermione had to catch her breath when they arrived.

The manor was huge, and beautiful. But there was a certain sadness about it, like it was empty, devoid of life.

"Are your parents home?" She whispered.

She didn't know if he heard her, because he didn't reply.

"This way." He said, walking over to the gardens and into a small structure that looked a bit like a temple. Hermione had never seen anything like it.

She followed Draco into the room, which was decorated with flowers and incense. There was a huge portrait of a beautiful woman inside, who kind of looked like…

Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"She was the only one I really cared about in this world." He said, wistfully. There were tears staining his cheeks, although he showed no indication that he was crying.

He looked up at the portrait, and Hermione could do nothing but try to comprehend what had happened. Was this the reason why he had gone for three days?

"I haven't told anyone what had happened." Draco said, his voice full of remorse. "I didn't know who to tell. I'm sorry it had to be you, but I really had to get it off my chest. I just want someone else to know."

Hermione's heart ached for him. She understood how hard it must have been for him to keep all of this inside. She was shocked that nobody knew about it. It wasn't in the papers, or anything.

"How did she die?" Hermione asked.

Draco was silent for a moment, and she could see that he was trembling with rage.

"She never loved her husband." He said, his voice shaking. "She only stayed with him for me, because of me. He threatened her that he would kill me if she didn't obey him. But she had had enough one day. She tried to break away from him. She tried to resist the spell that he had on both of us."

Draco paused, and Hermione could see the anguish on his face.

"He killed her for her treason. He didn't even use magic. I came home to find him beating her up, and hitting her repeatedly with a chair. I rushed her to the hospital, but she didn't make it."

Hermione remembered the way had Draco looked for the longest time—his bloodshot eyes, his blank looks. She had wondered what had been eating at him with so much pain, but she would never have guessed that it was the tragic death of someone he loved. She was glad that she stayed for the holidays. Who knew what would have happened if she had left him alone to his suffering?

"I'm sorry I had to ask that." She told him sincerely.

"No, I'm glad that someone knows the real story." He said. "He covered everything up, even though I witnessed against him and he got sent to Azkaban for three lifetimes."

Hermione didn't know what to do. So she did the only thing that she felt was appropriate.

She stepped closer to him and pulled him into a hug. He was taken aback at first, but when she didn't let go, he let her hold him.

He pulled away from the hug after a minute, his eyes unreadable. Hermione knew that he wasn't used to other people's affection. But she knew that when someone hurt, it was a good thing to hug them.

"Let's go." He said, as he took one final look at the grave of his mother, Narcissa Malfoy.

* * *

Not going to see you in a while, too many exams X_X I'll try to write again soon.


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